Half of Your Enemy
by EvangalineRosse
Summary: Maethorwen was not an elf to be tried and who better to toy her paitience than the stubborn Thorin Oakenshield? Yet on this journey together (one she was roped into by her family friend Gandalf) she cant' help but begin to feel tenderly towards the infuriating dwarf. Are the feelings returned or does her heritage ruin any positive feelings he could ever have for her? Thorin/OC
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The hay scratched her legs as she knelt behind a broken barrel. The ground was stained with blood and all she could hear was metal clanging and gruesome cries in a language she could not understand.

In front of her she saw an enormous ghastly white figure loom over. The Pale Orc. His grin as he spotted her made her stomach churn. Before he could take a step towards her though, her father jumped between them, sword ready. They clashed, metal meeting metal. Her father was a ranger, he would survive. She repeated this to herself over and over again as she watched them duel.

The few minutes felt like an eternity as she watched. But suddenly her world was crashing down as she saw the monster's hand pierce through her father chest, sending him falling to the ground with a hard thud.

It felt like the world had slowed down in that moment as she ran over, throwing herself on his chest as she sobbed. "DADDY!" she cried, beating his chest as if trying to force him to breathe again, "DADDY!" His eyes were wide and glazed over, his expression stuck in one of shock and horror. She screamed for him one last time before the world went black.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

She remembered screams, women and children crying out, begging for their lives. There was blood too; it stained every wall, door, and cloth around her. She felt sick at the sight. She was just a young girl, looking no older than a ten year old human might look, when the White Orc and his men raided her village.

Her father was a ranger and her mother an Elf warrior. So it was their instant reactions to jump into the fray and protect the innocent people running for their lives. Maeth deeply wished at that moment that her parents had been more selfish beings; they might have lived then if they ran.

She watched from behind a barrel as her father ran up to the pale Orc, sword aiming for his bulbous head. The next minute she watched as he crashed to the ground, a gaping hole in his chest from where the monster had shoved his hand through her father's heart. Her screams echoed her mother's as they both ran to his fallen form; Maeth sobbing over her father's body as her mother screamed for blood from his murder.

It is a commonly known fact that Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn and never was that more true than in that moment. Her parents had already killed off so many of his grotesque men and now, bloodied and mad with rage and grief, her mother was pursuing the orc mercilessly. After a few minutes of struggling with the enraged woman he and what was left of the orcs fled.

They spent that night mourning her father's death. When morning came around her mother gave her only a kiss goodbye and her father's sword to defend herself with as she left to hunt down the orc that stole her husband away. That was many years ago, now she was a young woman working as a bar maid in the local Inn she grew up in. She was the spitting image of her parents; a fair face with shining blue and gold eyes like her mother, short and curvy like the females of her father's family and with long shining golden hair like his.

This night she spent most of her time reading at the bar. It was the off season and the Inn was mostly empty save for a few drunken stragglers. She was just getting invested in her book when she heard the door swing open, signaling for her to serve the new the guest. Slipping the book into the pocket of her apron, she stood and walked over to the man who moved to sit at a table nearest the fire. He had a massively brimmed gray hat that blocked his face from view as he smoked his pipe. "Hello welcome to the Brass Caldron, sir. How can I help you?" she asked casually.

The man sat quietly for a minute –upon closer inspection she noticed the long silver beard showing that he was indeed very old- before speaking in a deep voice, "Tell me halfling; daughter of Melloneth and Saedd, do you really not recognize an old friend?"

Maeth blinked at this, taken back. Rarely anyone knew of her heritage, especially a stranger. She angled her head to peer beneath his hat before grinning. She most certainly recognized him now. "Gandalf! What brings you here? I have not seen you since I was just a youngling!" she exclaimed as he lifted his head to smile softly at her. Gandalf had been a close personal friend of his parents and sent a letter of grievance when she lost her parents along with a rare necklace for her to pawn and live off of.

"I have come with a request," he said casually, blowing butterflies with his pipe, "I am going on a journey and have come to request that you join me and my company."

Maeth mulled this over silently. She knew why he was asking her; her father had trained her to be a master swordsman while her mother taught her valuable healing skills and the ways of becoming part of the shadows and sneaking past any enemy. As a companion of his trip she would be invaluable but the question was not only where was his company now but why was he asking her suddenly after years of living in the town peacefully? "What's the journey?" she asked; all business.

Gandalf covered his face with smoke, something he often did when he didn't want to answer a question. But Maeth quickly flicked the smoke from his face, "tell me Gandalf. I cannot help you if I do not know what I am doing," she pointed out.

Gandalf chuckled at her, "You are as straightforward as your mother and I imagine as sharp tongued…this will be interesting…" he chuckled to himself in thought. He looked back to her, this time more serious, "I am travelling with the company of dwarves to reclaim Erebor from the dragon, Smaug. I know you remember it in its glory days, your father used to take you with him on his trips there to pick up new weaponry like the sword you keep."

Maeth raised a slender eyebrow, "dwarves? In case you've forgotten in your old age dwarves hate elves…which I am." She, herself harbored no ill will against them –she was raised outside the elf society with her parents- but she knew the feeling was not mutual.

Gandalf shrugged it off like it was a minor matter and continued smoking his pipe, "they will come around to it; after all you are not fully an elf." He said that like that made a difference. But knowing Gandalf she knew she could not sway his mind; he was a stubborn old wizard.

"I will join you," she said finally, smiling. She had been itching to leave this place and explore, it ran in her blood, she just never had an excuse to until now. In truth, she was a little sad to be parting with her home. Yes, it held horrible memories but it was also the last place she ever saw her parents. But that being said she refused to live the rest of her life as a bar maid when she could do so much more. Like slay a dragon.

Gandalf grinned like he knew she would agree all along, perhaps he did. "Excellent. We'll leave tomorrow for the Shire," he said happily. Maeth frowned, "the Shire? I thought we were travelling with Dwarves?"

Gandalf grinned knowingly again, looking into the fireplace as he stroked his beard, "we are, I'm merely….picking up a friend."

They travelled the next day to the Shire; Maeth packed her things into a small pack on her back while she strapped her father's sword to her hip. She had no intention of returning. By the early half of the second day they reached the rolling hills of the Shire. It was a merry place, hobbits going about their usual business and smiling without a care. They lived in such peace and ignorance, never knowing violence or loss. Maeth envied them for that.

Gandalf dismissed her to go buy some food and look around the small market as he met with his friend. Maeth raised a brow at this but did as he asked, going to the small market and shopping for food and supplies. She found a small hobbit pin and smiled, it was adorable with a picture of the Shire printed into the metal. She gave a coin for it before pinning it to her coat. A few hours had passed and it was already dark. She looked around for a sign of Gandalf but saw nothing. Huffing, she asked around if anyone had seen him. After a few minutes of asking around, several pointed her toward a man named Bilbo Baggin's house.

When she got close enough she could see a glowing rune on the large green door of the home. Was that really the only signal he left for her? Well at least he left something, knowing that wizard… She knocked on the door a couple times, the noise in the hill home quieting. The door slowly opened to reveal an exasperated hobbit and a large company of dwarves along with a crouching Gandalf in the back.

"Hello," she smiled, stepping inside. She was rather short due to her father, coming to stand at only 5'2" despite the elf in her blood. "My name is Maethorwen, I'm here with Gandalf for the adventure?" she explained at the unfriendly and mostly shocked stares.

One very tall dwarf with dark almost black hair, peppered with streaks of silver, turned to glare at Gandalf accusingly. "You brought an _elf _with you?!" he thundered, causing the poor Hobbit to jump in shock.

Lovely, racist ass. "I'm only half and is this how you treat all those who try to help you? Insult their race? No wonder your company is so small," she snapped, crossing her arms. She was only a few inches taller but with the way he glared at her made her feel like he was towering above her. Looking closer she realized she recognized him, there was no mistaking that majestic air about him. He was the prince, or rather now king, of Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield. She had seen him many times in passing on her visits with her father.

"We do not need the help of a dirty pointed ear elf," he spat the word like it was a disease. The others around him nodded in agreement. It was at this moment that the hobbit –whom she assumed to be Bilbo Baggins- jumped in.

"I say that is no way to talk to a lady!" he huffed, defending her before turning to her, 'I deeply apologize on their behalf Miss Maeth…orwen, did you say? Please, ignore them." Maeth blinked at him and smiled softly causing him to blush a light pink.

"It's fine. Sadly, I expected this when I joined and please call me Maeth, Mr. Baggins," she said gently. He was a kind man and had stood up to a king to defend her. She knew she would enjoy the journey so long if he was there. She looked back to Thorin, "and like it or not I am coming on this journey. I won't let the hope of a people crumble because of some pigheaded king."

He looked ready to kill her on the spot when Gandalf cut in, "You do need her, Thorin. She is a master swordsman and a great healer. She could make a difference in a life or death situation. Besides, you should treat her with more respect; her father was Saedd and if memory serves he was a loyal friend to your father." At this Thorin blinked in shock, "you lie, wizard! My father's companion would not mate with an Elf!"

Maeth rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "He did. In fact, I often came with him on his visits to Erebor. I had seen you often in passing," she pointed out, "though I suppose I don't look too elvish if you do not notice my ears or pay close attention. Apparently, you're either short sighted or too self absorbed to notice anything else around you. "

She of course didn't mention the small crush she developed on the dwarf prince during those passings as a young girl.

Bilbo piped up again, "excuse me but it seems you already have someone so you really don't need me…" He seemed quite nervous, not that she blamed him. Slaying a dragon would frighten any warrior, much less a simple hobbit.

Maeth sighed, looking to the small hobbit, gently. "Please come with us. I would really enjoy your company," she smiled.

Thorin, of course, cut in again, "You're not coming in the first place! Elf or not I will _not _bring a woman along on this journey!" A dwarf with a funny hat in the back chuckled, "be incinerated just like the hobbit."

Bilbo paled, "i-incerated? By what?"

Maeth turned to him and blinked. Didn't they tell him? "A dragon, of course." At this the poor hobbit fainted.


	3. Chapter 2

**((Hello lovely readers, sorry for the short chapter I promise to try and make the next few longer. Also I'll have chapter three out by tonight or Sunday so you shouldn't have to wait too long. I'm trying to get myself into updating more often for the few that follow me. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think! blessed be and enjoy! )O( ))**

Chapter Two

After they gathered poor Bilbo and tucked him into bed the company gathered together quietly into the living room. An air of seriousness settled over the group as Thorin sat and stared into the fireplace. Maeth settled for sitting in the back among the shadows, content with being forgotten at least for a little bit.

Thorin began to sing in his deep baritone voice and Maeth shivered. It was like it echoed from every wall in the room and through her very being. As everyone joined she could only sit back and listen in awe. Their voices held such pain for the lonely mountain. With every breath and with every note they mourned the loss of Erebor. It was at that moment that Maeth made up her mind; whether Thorin agreed to let her or not she_ would_ help them get back their the song came to an end Maeth stood and walked over to Thorin, "Could we talk outside?" He raised an irritated brow at her but nodded, following her out of the hobbit hole.

She sat down on the small bench and patted the spot next to her for him to join her. To say he politely declined was an understatement. "I will not sit with an _elf_," he spat, crossing his arms, "we can talk standing."

Maeth rolled her eyes, snapping, "I'm not going to bite to you! Just sit down, you stubborn dwarf!" He opened his mouth to argue but her no nonsense glare silenced him. After a minute he finally sat down, huffing.

"What is it you wished to discuss?" he grumbled, obviously uncomfortable with being this close to her.

Maeth ignored the attitude and looked at him, "I wanted to say that I _am_ coming with you on this journey." Before he could open his mouth and argue she cut him off, "and before you say anything just listen first. You hate elves because they didn't help during the attack from Smaug, correct? Well 'master dwarf' I was too young to fight nor was I even a part of the elven to help, so your hate towards me specifically is unjustified." Thorin quieted at this, unwilling to admit the elf might have had a point. "And if that doesn't help let me redeem my race then by finally helping take Erebor for you as it should have been in the first place." He sat silently as if puzzling over whether if he could trust her word as an elf. Maeth sighed, "Thorin…I am deeply sorry for what my people let happen. We should have helped…why we didn't was simply the act of a selfish king. Please, don't judge one elf for the mistake of one elf king. Besides, even if you tell me no I'll still tag along," she pointed out.

Thorin sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, "I guess there's no way for me to argue then…if Gandalf says you're useful than you must be…." Maeth grinned and Thorin saw this, quickling snapping, 'But one foot out of line and you will have me to punish, do you understand?" She, of course, nodded.

"Looks to me like we've come to an agreement," she smiled, holding out her slender hand, "truce?"

He stared at her silently as if wondering if this was really worth it before slowly taking it in his own massive hand, "…truce."

His hand was large and unusually warm against her own. Her smooth skin could feel the hard calluses on his palm, no doubt from years of hard labor and fought back the urge to kiss the rough blisters like she used to do her father and mother after they had trained. She blushed as she realized she was holding his hand for much longer than needed and quickly dropped it. Thorin stared at her with a brow raised in question but thankfully, said nothing. What had come over her?

Flustered and completely embaressed she stood and went back inside, using the an excuse like "needing rest for the journey tomorrow" or something along those lines. As she walked back in she could feel Thorin's gaze burning on her back.

Thorin sat silently, an unwelcome feeling settling in the pits of his stomach. Something about that elf caught him off guard, her appearance alone brought on an odd feeling of nostalgia. The way her golden hair shimmered in the light reminded him the gold that lined everything back in Erebor while her bright her reminded him of the gems they mined for beneath the lonely mountain. How could something –an elf of all things- he swore to hate remind him so much of home?

Shaking his head he went back inside. He was simply eager to take back his home and found ways to remind himself of it in simple things, though a small voice in the back of his head nagged otherwise.

He looked around the hobbit hole as everyone set up to rest for the night, findingspace to sleep in every nook and cranny. Curled up by the dying fire and fast asleep he found the elf. Without really knowing why –perhaps a moment of pity for the creature- he took off the blanket of f the nearest chair and draped it around her before going on and sleeping in the rocking chair.


End file.
